


Missing Who You Were

by JustAnotherNarrator



Series: The Stages of Being Series [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon Compliant, My First Work in This Fandom, Other, POV Second Person, Past Friendship, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 11:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19333552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherNarrator/pseuds/JustAnotherNarrator
Summary: As you stand there, frozen in place, pondering what he could be doing in Paris -Nothing good surely...- your mind wanders back to a time long ago. A time before time really. Before the Almost Apocalypse everyone’s been talking about, before he changed his name to Anthony J. Crowley… or to Crowley, for that matter, a time before God’s decision to make Herself new playthings in the form of the humans.





	Missing Who You Were

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for Good Omens and my first Reader-Insert. Please be kind with me...

Moments like these are rare. You just don’t see much of each other anymore, and for your own sake, it’s better that way, but it makes the few random encounters you’ve have every few centuries a lot more jarring. Every time you thank God - although you know it’s not Her doing - that he was stationed on the other side of the Channel. It would be much harder - and awkward - otherwise.

He doesn’t seem to have noticed you yet, but he could just be playing possum; he’s a demon after all. As you stand there, frozen in place, pondering what he could be doing in Paris - _Nothing good surely..._ \- your mind wanders back to a time long ago. A time before time really. Before the Almost Apocalypse everyone’s been talking about, before he changed his name to Anthony J. Crowley… or to Crowley, for that matter, a time before God’s decision to make Herself new playthings in the form of the humans. Back when the two of you were angels serving the Divine Plan.

Back when you were friends. 

He’d always been a tad rebellious, always ready to stir a little trouble, most often landing the both of you in hot water since you could never resist going along with his ridiculous schemes. It was those eyes of his that were always your undoing. Back before they turned this repulsive yellow with that unnatural vertical slit in them, back then they’d been the most beautiful shade of brown you’d ever seen, so rich and deep one could simply get lost in them. You’d even wondered if God favoured him over others to have given him such eyes.

Your brain snaps you back to the present, because he’s finally noticed you. Why couldn't you just keep walking? Oh and of course, he’s heading over to you now, sauntering over in that demonic walk of his! Great, just great.

With your eyes locked on him as they are, you don’t notice the pack of tourists heading straight at you until it’s too late and you find yourself pushed and pulled in all directions by the swarm of bodies. Suddenly, you’re no longer in Paris, you’re on a battlefield you know all too well. It’s The Revolution. The Battle for Heaven’s Throne. Lucifer’s Ridiculously Consequential Tantrum. Whatever it is one might want to call it.

You watched the blood covered sword fall from your hand as you crashed down to your knees, every single cell in your body screaming agony. You’d never known God could allow such useless violence and pain on you, Her children. You had to fight, no one was exempt, even if you weren’t involved in anyway, and so you did. It was a terrible mess, angels from both sides attacking one another with whatever was at hand, fighting in the air above your head or on the field around you. Pushing and pulling, over and over again, for so long now that you no longer had a concept of how long you’d been fighting for. You waited for a moment, excepting the rebel who had just stabbed your wing to finish the job, but nothing came, and as you looked up, you saw a flash of ginger hair and rich brown eyes before darkness took over. Had you known then that this would be the very last time you ever saw those eyes, you would have tried harder to stay conscious.

As the tour group finally lets you out of its midst, the same tall, skinny ginger with the same look of concern on his face has accelerated his pace. He’s right across the street now, one pedestrian light signal away from you and your heart is trying to run out of your chest. This is why you should have accepted that relocation to Australia when it came around three centuries ago. As he jaywalks across the street, you remember trying to warn him about his new “friends” and how they might lead him to more trouble than even he could handle. You remember the first time - and every subsequent time - you saw him after he fell and how much it hurt to have failed to save your one friend… and how much worse it is since you know that he’s replaced you with another angel.

_He truly is a demon. Maybe he always was._

He’s in front of you now, your stomach feels sick. As it always does. You straighten your shoulders and he does the same. You wonder for half a second, if he feels the same pain when he sees you, before swiftly pushing the thought away. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“What do you want, Crowley?”

“Well, hello to you too, angel.”


End file.
